The Start of a Beautiful Relationship
by EloraVashara
Summary: AU. Starscream is lost and in need of a friend-Optimus provides just that, and some fun as well! Follow Optimus and Starscream from their sparkling-hood onwards. Chapter 4 now up!
1. Chapter 1

AN: Hey, it's me! Sorry, no Victory/Attraction updates yet…I haven't abandoned them though, I promise! It's just slow going right now. Anyways, in the meantime, have some sparkling fluff!

The Start of a Beautiful Relationship

By Elora Vashara

Starscream was lost. The seekerlet was now aware of this, and had since realized that his outing had been a spectacularly bad idea. His tiny thrusters were barely keeping him in the air and he wobbled with exhaustion, never having flown this much before. He had thought when he set out that he could easily find his way back—after all, he knew what his house looked like! But now, up so high and far away, all the houses were starting to look the same and he was so turned around that he didn't even know what direction he was flying in now. Deciding he needed a rest from the flying, Starscream landed in a clear area that must have been somebody's yard.

It was huge, though, a vast plain compared to his own yard at home. The house itself was rather impressive as well, a gleaming, pillared structure that screamed aristocracy. Curious despite his nervousness, he reasoned that if the mechs that lived here were so important they must be nice as well. Maybe they would know where to find his daddy and father? He wandered around the side of the grand house and spotted another sparkling playing with some toys. The ground-based mechlet was a little bigger than him, and looked a little older, but Starscream had since decided to ignore the flutterings of nervousness that had been plaguing him for a while. Things couldn't get any worse, could they?

So he wandered up to his fellow sparkling, shadow falling into the similarly colored mechling's line of vision.

Optimus glanced up at the obvious intrusion to his playtime, expecting a cleaning drone or one of the servant drones, and was instead greeted with the vision of a red, white and blue seekerlet, a bit younger than him and looking very tired and distressed, though he was hiding it well. He gaped for a moment, and when he was not met with a greeting of any kind he pulled his mouth shut, gathered his manners and stumbled out a hello.

Upon seeing the mechlet's face, Starscream had become immediately fixed upon the optics shining up at him. They were a vibrant shade of blue, shining in bright surprise up at him. They reminded him of stars, he decided, since they were the only other things he knew of that shone so purely. The small hello had come and gone now, and Starscream felt embarrassed at his lack of response, so he directed his gaze to the ground, scuffing the tip of his foot slightly and feeling his cheeks heat up.

"Um…" Optimus wasn't sure what to do now that he had been denied a response. "D'you wanna sit?" he asked gently, patting the ground beside him. This got a reaction, as the seekerlet took his offer and plopped down with legs crossed, scarlet optics meeting his for a fraction of a second in thanks. Optimus nodded, then stared at his lap, trying to work out what to do next. They could play, but the seekerlet seemed tired, or… Oh! His papa was always reminding him to have good manners, and that included always politely introducing himself by name and shaking hands. Maybe that was why he hadn't gotten a response.

He shifted a little so he was facing the other sparkling slightly and held out his hand. "'M Optimus, it is very nice to meet you." There was no reaction right away, but Optimus could be patient and he left his hand out within easy grasp.

Hesitantly, Starscream reached up to take the blue hand in his own and was surprised to find that the shades of blue were nearly identical. Curious, he pulled the hand a little closer and flipped it over, inspecting the smooth curve of the small digits and comparing them to his own slightly smaller ones. "Starscream," he offered quietly as he continued his inspection of the now wide optic'd Optimus, lower lip sticking out in a slight pout. Eventually he relinquished Optimus' hand and met his optics with a shy smile, crimson optics glowing warmly.

Optimus couldn't help but grin back, and with that the ice was broken and the two began to play and chatter and chase each other around the yard until the light began to grow dimmer outside and both were exhausted. They trooped up the steps onto the back deck and clambered up onto one of the benches, Optimus curling up against one armrest and Starscream snuggling up against him. They quickly fell into blissful recharge smiles on their faces and each feeling that they were far better off for knowing the other now.

AN2: Hope you enjoyed it :-) Review if you have a second!


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Uh, hey, so I guess this sort of exploded. I wrote all of this in a couple hours today, and I'm still working on some more. Mostly I'm just happy to be writing OP/SS again! It's like slipping into really comfortable snuggly clothes. Or, you know, whatever. You get what I mean! Anyways, I nearly sporfled at a few bits in here that struck me as particularly funny, so hopefully you'll like them too ^_^ Hope you enjoy reading, and as always, review if you have a second!

PS—None of this is ever beta'd, so if you catch any mistakes, let me know! (Also, I don't own Transformers, so that's my disclaimer right there)

The Start of a Beautiful Relationship, Chapter two

By Elora Vashara

The next morning, an anxious and relieved pair of seekers retrieved their seekerlet from a gracious and slightly amused Hot Rod and Ultra Magnus. Seeing the obvious attachment between the two younglings, they offered to sparkling-sit Starscream should Thundercracker and Skywarp ever need a break (and a reliable sparkling-sitter). The two seekers declined at first, but later changed their minds when they noticed how Starscream would talk about "Mop" frequently, drawing pictures and asking if he could visit again sometime very soon. Similarly, Optimus pestered his creators about "Star" coming to visit, or maybe he could spend the night at Star's home? There was, apparently, a strong connection between the two after only a short evening and morning in each other's company, and so it was that Skywarp and Thundercracker promised Starscream a visit once he was no longer grounded (literally).

It was a happy reunion which led to many repeats as time went by. A vorn and a half went past before Optimus' creators gently broke the news that they were moving out of Vos to Iacon. Optimus didn't want to go, and the next orn when he saw Starscream (who was by now a proud nine vorns old, while Optimus was eleven) he informed the seekerlet of this very fact. He managed a stoic face until he actually considered not seeing his best friend nearly every day, after which he promptly broke down in tears. Starscream hugged him in a slightly bewildered fashion, since he'd never seen Optimus cry, not even with a cracked leg strut from a bad fall. And then he realized that his only friend would be moving away, and he wouldn't be able to see him anymore, and he started crying too, both clinging to each other in pre-emptive goodbye grief.

The final move came nearly a quarter-vorn later, but it was still far too soon for the duo. They'd built a reputation in their neighborhoods, since their colors rather matched and they got into the sort of innocent trouble that sparklings often do. They exchanged mail addresses, and promised to write each other, and out loud they comforted each other with confidence that they would still be friends, but inside both felt entirely overwhelmed by the sheer distance that would soon stretch between them—Iacon was on the other side of Cybertron. There would be no more friendly visits, no more popping in to hang out over lazy summer afternoons, no strolling through the neighborhoods looking for fun.

Starscream would miss Optimus himself the most, though. He was always the quiet one, more reserved than Starscream, and generally more polite. He often liked to spout sayings that he'd heard from his creators, or read from various places, and Starscream would immediately pick apart the meaning, and the two would analyze how sincere the sentiment of the message really was. Both were extremely bright for their age, and their creators often puzzled over that strange pastime of theirs. Optimus had a talent for inventing games, and though Starscream couldn't remember half the ones they'd played, he knew they had all been great fun. One had involved dares, and Starscream, having recently become morbidly fascinated with the idea of kissing, had dared Optimus to do just that. After a bout of stuttering and blushing, the mechlet had tentatively leaned forwards, optics darting towards the ground nervously, and had been about to make contact with Starscream's cheek when the seekerlet jumped up and fled, giggling madly as a now indignant Optimus chased him.

Optimus would dearly miss Starscream. The little jet was a constant source of amazement to him, since though he was a full two vorns younger than Optimus he was (and Optimus admitted this with some reluctance) probably more intelligent than himself. Anything and everything to do with the sciences fascinated Starscream, and as he learned new facts he was often keen on roping Optimus into being his assistant during his many interesting experiments. Some had rather explosive results, which led to some interesting cover stories. Starscream was infinitely better at lying than Optimus, they'd found, and the seekerlet usually made sure Optimus was well-drilled on several decent alibis just in case.

The goodbye came and went, and with the awkward dedication of young mechs, neither ended up writing the other. Holos remained on mirrors and propped up on berthside tables, eventually a distant, pleasant memory that often evoked the thought "I wonder how he's doing now?"

When Starscream was fourteen vorns old, he rearranged his berthroom, which led to old holos and other mementos being shoved in random boxes to be hid under his berth. There was only a brief pang of memory at the fuzzy holo of himself and a larger mechlet, grinning madly at whoever took the holo. He couldn't quite recall his sparkling-hood friend's name. Had it started with an 'M'? He wasn't quite sure.

Optimus had gone through a similar reorganization when he was fifteen, reluctantly placing the old holo of a grinning Star away in a small box where it would be safe and un-crushed. Those were sparkling-hood memories, and he'd lost any contact information long ago. Besides, they were maybe still on opposite sides of the planet, and since he couldn't even remember his friend's actual name, there was no way he'd ever find him. As far as he could ever remember, he'd always called the seekerlet Star, and had always been called Mop in return.

Shortly after Starscream's 16th creation day celebration, the seeker family moved to Iacon since Thundercracker had received a job offer that was far more attractive than his current employment. Skywarp had done some digging on local schools, and found that Middle Iacon's Final School was a solid establishment with a fine principal and a dean the students praised. He'd enrolled Starscream there, and was confident that things would be just fine, probably just as quiet there as it was at his old school.

Starscream stared nervously at the imposing building before him, nerves making him want to purge his tank. He was standing before the front doors of Middle Iacon's Final School, a decent establishment, certainly. If there was one thing he could look forward to it was new labs and better scientific resources than his old middle school back in Vos. Unfortunately, going to a new school in an unfamiliar city held any number of potentially negative variables. Seekers weren't exactly common here in Iacon, and the structure of the city reflected that. It was laced with roads, highways stretching high and low, far and wide, as far as the optic could fathom. Buildings were clustered much closer together, which made flying anywhere a bit of a hazard, what with all the blind corners. He was already feeling rather claustrophobic, and he wasn't even indoors yet! Buildings in Vos were also equipped with numerous balconies on every floor for quick entry and exit, and the sides of the buildings were nearly always glass, so even when you were indoors you were never that far away from the sky.

The hulking lump of a building before him was no more than six stories high, far longer than it was tall, and had thick, solid walls with small windows placed around the edges of each floor. He was early this morning since it was his first day, and he was reluctant to move from his spot outside, but the group of students approaching from behind him prompted him to take the last few steps necessary to reach the doors, which slid open at his approach, and walk inside, easily finding his way to the Dean's office. The short trip was easy largely because as soon as he turned down the hall in the instructions, a large, cheerful sign presented itself, with a neat arrow and curvy letters in bright blue proclaiming, "DEAN'S OFFICE." A smaller, far more subdued sign hung below, pointing across the hall to another office, stating merely, "PRINCIPAL" in severe red lettering. Perhaps it was just Starscream's imagination at work, but it seemed like the smaller sign was rather annoyed by the cheerful sign above it. Perhaps because it was too bright and obnoxious, or maybe because it was stealing the Principal's thunder, so to speak.

At any rate, he decided he'd better head in and get his class schedule and locker number before time ran out. Starscream peered around the door frame, knocking politely on the edge to announce himself to the mech sitting at the desk, seemingly absorbed in his music. The office had many shelves, most cluttered with bits of memorabilia, files, and thank-you cards. Holos decorated the walls liberally and there were several inspirational quotes scattered around.

"Hmm?" The Dean glanced up and smiled, rising to beckon Starscream in. "Hey there mech, you must be tha new student, yeah? Have a seat, we'll only be a mo'."

Not sure what to make of the oddly not-strict Dean (though he should have expected it with the sign) Starscream took the proffered seat and managed not to look too surprised when a pair of pedes settled on top of the desk, their owner reclining in his seat.

"Ah, yes, I'm the new student. I'm Starscream." He let the words hang in the air awkwardly, trying to act like he wasn't intimidated at all by the lack of windows in the room. Crimson optics fell to his hands, and he went about studying the familiar shade of blue. A hand (which was not his own) was suddenly thrust into his line of vision, and upon looking up he found the Dean in a position he had not thought possible. Could Cybertronians be that flexible naturally, he wondered, or did he have extra joints added?

"'M Jazz, the Student Dean. Er, Dean of Students, but really, either works," Starscream shook his hand briefly. "You'll be wantin' yer class schedule and all now, righ'? I've got it _somewhere_ over here…" He rifled through a small stack of datapads until he found the right one, casually sliding it across the desk so that it came to a precision stop a bare millimeter away from toppling off the edge.

As Starscream picked it up and perused the contents, Jazz took a moment to study the new arrival. He was a seeker, that much was obvious, but he was rather slight. Graceful, too. He'd stepped daintily around the corner, flicking his wings back to avoid the door edges with practiced ease, and every move he made seemed entirely deliberate, and flawlessly delivered. Jazz could appreciate grace, certainly, but he was more a spontaneous kind of mech. Starscream was nervous, too. Good at hiding it, but it showed in his wings, the way they drooped and twitched more than they would if he were relaxed, and he was always looking out the door, looking at the walls as if expecting there to be a window there. Well, his file did say he was transferring from Vos. Jazz supposed it was a big change to go from flyer city to ground-pounder central.

Starscream finished scanning the datapad, thanked Jazz politely for the information and offer of a friendly audio should he ever need to discuss something, and walked across the hall to the principal's office. He rang the door chime and unconsciously straightened his posture, settling a neutral expression on his face and pushing his wings higher, quelling their nervous movements. After a moment, the door slid open to reveal the polar opposite of Jazz's office. Everything was either black, white, or a shade of gray. The desk and cabinets were brushed steel, and there was not a speck of clutter to be seen. The shelves were neatly filled with organized datapads, there were absolutely no trinkets, and the only loose datapad to be seen was the one currently being worked on by the principal.

The mech himself was Praxian with a crisp black and white paint job, the only color on his frame was the splash of crimson and gold marking his chevron, and the ice-blue glow of his stern optics.

"You may sit," he said, and though it had been more of an offer, it sounded like a command. Starscream sat promptly.

"You're Starscream, I take it?"

"Yes sir." The seeker had drawn the conclusion that this mech was not to be messed with, and was one of those strict disciplinarians. He was proven right shortly when the Praxian (who curtly introduced himself as Prowl) had launched into a condensed lecture on the behavior expected of a mech in "this fine school, though _some_ are determined to treat it as a common institution." Starscream managed to look like he was paying attention through the whole thing, responded with another "Yes sir!" when asked if all the rules were clear to him, and was sent on his way, never more glad to be heading to his first class. Perhaps that was the point.

Prowl's comm buzzed.

/Yes?/

/Ah like the new student. He's not bad/

/Jazz, you have work to do, now is not the time for gossip/

Jazz continued, ignoring Prowl's protests. /He's a little too uptight, of course. Needs to loosen up, have some fun. But I bet he'll fit in nicely with the Science group/

/_Jazz_/

/Alright, alright, don't get yah wires in a twist, Ah'm shuttin' up. We can gossip later, gorgeous/

If looks could kill, Jazz would have died vorns ago.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Okay, here's chapter three! I was going to add more, but my brain died and I just decided to heck with it! You guys can have what's here and I'll get another chapter written when I can. RL is a little busy right now, but I might have some time this week to get a bit done, and maybe a full update by early July-ish. We'll see, 'cause my July is crazy busy right now. On the bright side, I've hammered out a basic outline for this so it actually sort of has a direction now! Yay! Hope you enjoy, and as usual, review if you have a second! :)

PS—Thanks for all the faves, alerts, and reviews guys! They mean a lot to me, I didn't think this story would be as popular as it apparently is. So thanks!

Chapter Three

Starscream glanced around to locate his locker. The hall he was in didn't have it, so he walked back to the atrium, standing in the center so he could better see the signs that listed which hall had which locker numbers.

It was then that a rather large mech ran into him. Starscream flailed, trying to catch his balance, but ended up only giving out an undignified squawk before hitting the ground. The datapad with his information skidded out of his grasp and stopped a few yards away.

"Oh, Primus, I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going and…" Optimus trailed off as the slightly younger seeker, also on the ground, turned to meet his gaze. Primus, what gorgeous optics, he thought, taking in the smooth, dark grey face plates, full lips, and sleek, gleaming black helm. He completely missed the annoyed expression. "Uh, hi," he offered after a second, feeling a strange sense of déjà-vu. The seeker peered at him for a moment before pushing out a sigh and rising to retrieve his datapad without a word.

Optimus scrambled to his feet and hurried after him, accidently bumping into a few other students and offering quick apologies and smiles as he pushed through. The seeker was standing near the wall, inspecting the datapad for damage and brushing dust particles off it. He barely got a half-glance as acknowledgement for his approach. "Um," he offered his hand in greeting, "'M Optimus. Sorry to bump into you like that…" He trailed off, hoping to get a name, anything, from the seeker.

For the second time that day, Starscream saw a hand and took it, but this time… He shook the hand briefly, but refused to relinquish it, pulling the taller mech closer as he compared the shades of blue that were so similar, but different in their own way.

"Starscream," he offered, knowing that the mech had been waiting for it. Something about the way he'd introduced himself… "Mop?" he asked, meeting curious blue optics. Recognition dawned then. He'd been lost, and had run into a blue, red and silver-white mechlet playing outside. And then…

"Star?" Optimus exclaimed, realizing now why it had felt so familiar. His sparkling-hood friend had certainly grown up—what had once been a jumble of awkwardly geometric limbs and tiny wings was now a trim flying mech, slim red torso flanked by expansive, pearly white wings, and exquisitely sculpted arms and legs were capped with a brilliant, creamy shade of blue.

Both were instantly ashamed, remembering promises to keep in touch that had fallen through. Starscream dropped his hand and cleared his vocalizer while Optimus vacillated between ogling Starscream and staring at the floor.

"I uh, hi," he shifted awkwardly, wings fluttering with nerves. Optimus was so tall now—handsome, too, and a large part of him wasn't sure what to do with that information. Their optics met and Optimus cleared his vocalizer to say something but was interrupted.

"Hey, Optimus!" came a shout, and both turned to see a pair of mechs, one gold, one gleaming red, walking towards them. The red one grinned, and the golden one nodded at them. "Good vacation, yeah?"

"Yeah Sides," Optimus grinned in return, "Sunny," he added with a nod to the golden mech. At a slight glare, he quickly corrected himself. "I mean, Sunstreaker. Uh, Star, these are Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, they're twins, and the school troublemakers."

"And proud of it!" Sideswipe added, noting that Starscream was new as he swept a hand down to take one of Starscream's. "Star, was it?" he purred, brushing his lips over Starscream's knuckles in a feather-light caress, "It's a pleasure." As he straightened, his optics roved over Starscream's lithe body—the seeker was all graceful curves and sharp, refined lines with features to match. Sunstreaker rolled his optics but still took stock of the seeker. He decided he might ask him to model for a painting sometime.

"It's Starscream, actually," the seeker clarified, wondering in a slightly giddy portion of his mind if he was going to be treated like this by every mech here.

Sideswipe took note of the suddenly possessive stance his friend had taken behind the seeker. "Ah, so Star is a nickname then. You two go back a ways, or did you meet over vacation, or what?"

"We were best friends as sparklings," Optimus supplied, then gently rested a hand on Starscream's shoulder, "And the first bell is about to ring, so we'd better get to class. Starscream, where's your first class?"

"Uhh," Starscream forced his attention to his schedule as the twins strode off, trying to ignore the warmth radiating from Optimus' hand to the base of his sensitive shoulder vent. "Uh, Advanced Sciences with Perceptor."

Optimus grinned. "You're lucky," he chuckled, guiding Starscream in the right direction so he could walk him to his class. "I've got Wheeljack for Sciences, and he blows something up every other week." He was silent for a moment, then, "Actually, you might have gotten along better with him, given your previous explosive tendencies. Remember?"

Starscream rolled his optics, feeling a little more at ease with Optimus now that the ice had been broken. "Yes, I remember quite well, thank you very much. And I've since improved, I should add. Not too many explosions these days."

"Good," Optimus concluded, a smile still on his face. "Hey, when's your midday break? I've got mine fourth period."

"Lemme check. Ahh, oh, hey, mine's fourth period too! I'll see you then, I guess." He shot a shy smile up at Optimus, and then they were at his classroom and Optimus had to wave goodbye as he jogged off to his first class. Feeling like this was probably going to be a good day, Starscream settled in, taking the first few minutes of roll call to review his map and class placement so he would be able to find them as the day went on.

Science hadn't been bad at all, and he'd been surprised to see another flyer in class. There really weren't that many young flyers in Iacon. The mech was a shuttle, and as such took up a little more space than the others, but was surprisingly graceful about it all. Starscream guessed he'd been at the school a couple vorns and was used to the layout.

In his art class, he'd been sandwiched between Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, the former flirting outrageously with him, obviously trying to figure out if he was single. Sunstreaker was quiet, and as yet hadn't said a word to him, much less smiled, but he got the feeling that the mech felt rather neutral towards him—there was no sense of like or dislike, simply general tolerance.

Music was a fun class, though he didn't really possess the raw talent to be anything more than a passable musician. He'd made friends with a loud orange mech named Blaster there, and was still undecided about a quiet navy-blue mech with a red visor. They'd hardly spoken, so he chose to reserve judgment until he got to know the mech better. And then the lunch bell rang, and he hastened out of class with the others to go find his locker, which he'd failed to do earlier, then head to the cafeteria.

As Starscream stepped through the doors, a wave of noise hit him, mechs and femmes chatting, flirting, gossiping…Generally getting caught up on their friends' summer vacations. Someone, he wasn't sure who, shouted above the noise, "Hey, look, it's the new mech!" And suddenly the room quieted, all optics turning to him. He froze, not sure what to do now that he was the center of attention. Was someone going to play a prank on him? He decided to go with the "pretend like this happens all the time and just say hi and go about your business" option. Starscream offered a casual wave and smile, then sauntered over to the energon dispenser, earning a few whistles as he did so. He flicked his wings in response, knowing that the language of wings would be over most of the bots' heads. It had been a general sort of acknowledgement of the compliments, but he'd added in a subtle response—he was too good for most of the mechs there. There was a chuckle from the crowd, and Starscream guessed it was the shuttle.

Full cube in hand, he turned to survey the room as the level of noise grew back to its normal din. Where was Optimus…? A bright red arm waved somewhere around the middle of the room, and Starscream made out Optimus in the crowd. Relieved, he hurried through, ignoring most of the cheesy one-liners thrown at him. He knew he wasn't so pretty as to have all their attention—most were thrown out jokingly. With a huge sigh, he flopped down next to Optimus and leaned on a shiny red shoulder, tucking his wings back and flat as he did so.

"Exhausted already?" Optimus half-teased, unable to help the fondness that crept into his voice.

"No," Starscream mumbled, "Yes. It's just a lot of new things in one day. I'll be fine." He sat up straight and took a gulp of his energon. "You gonna introduce me?" he asked, gesturing to the other mechs at the table who were watching the two of them with interest.

"Yeah, you already know Sideswipe and Sunstreaker," he began, gesturing to the twins, who sat to his right. "and past them is Bluestreak." A friendly looking gray and red Praxian waved cheerfully at him. "On the other side is Blitzwing," the solemn purple, white and yellow transformer nodded at him, "then Soundwave," another nod, and Starscream added, "We've met already." Optimus continued, "Then there's Hook—he's the aspiring medic here—" Hook grinned at Starscream, who returned the gesture, "And then there's Reflector, he's head of the school's student photography club." Starscream struck a pose as Reflector snapped a holo of him. "And last, but not least, we have Shockwave. Everyone, this is Starscream."

A dutiful chorus of "hello" came from everyone, and then they settled into the casual banter of young mechs, eagerly trading stories of their vacations. Starscream soon found out how Bluestreak had gotten his name, and was the most surprised of the group when Sunstreaker silenced the chatty mech with a deep kiss. Mostly the reaction was optic rolling, and a few "Finally!"s from various mechs. He noted a few credits being exchanged, and realized that this had apparently been some time coming. When the two parted, Sunstreaker simply took a calm sip of his energon while Bluestreak slumped, optics glazed over and lips parted. His optics flickered briefly before he sat up straight, turned to look incredulously at Sunny, and gingerly touched his kiss-swollen lips.

"Did he just…" He pointed at a smug Sunstreaker and got a few nods in reply from the others. "Oh," he said, and picked up his energon cube to take a sip. He stayed silent for the moment, apparently mulling over what had happened. Sunstreaker's only reaction to the change was to sit closer to the Praxian, hips touching and shoulders brushing occasionally.

"You know," Sideswipe said conversationally, "you're going to get slagged for that right? 'Cause Blue is Prowl's nephew and all." Sunstreaker just shrugged, apparently having considered his impending demise to be inconsequential in the grand scheme of things.

"So," Starscream interjected, wanting to participate, "What is it between Prowl and Jazz? I got a really weird vibe just seeing their signs in the hall. It seems like they don't get along at all."

"Observation: Jazz desires Prowl. Desire not reciprocated," Soundwave intoned.

"Yeah," Shockwave nodded, "They've had this thing going for ages. Prowl is apparently a stick in the proverbial mud, and for some reason Jazz wants him. He's never made any progress, though. I think he needs to take a different approach, personally."

"Well," Starscream began thoughtfully, "What's the approach he's been trying then?"

"The obvious one," Sideswipe offered, "He does the whole shebang—whistles, pet names, checking him out when he knows he's paying attention. One might think he's just being obnoxious, but he's confided in Optimus here that he's quite serious, just not sure how to go about getting information on what Prowl likes."

"So he's basically just trying to provoke Prowl into reacting in some way? And he can't get any information through any other method?" Starscream was intrigued.

"I guess so," Optimus rumbled, noting that Starscream was now stuck on the issue. He wouldn't let it go until there was a resolution. "He did try being nice for a long time, but Prowl still never relaxed enough to tell him anything. The only bot he relaxes around even a little is Bluestreak, but they're family."

"Hmm…" Starscream cradled his chin in his hand, optics dim in thought. "There's got to be a way to solve this. Does anybody know if Prowl has any particular area of expertise or interest outside of his job as the principal?"

They all exchanged glances, considering what they knew.

"Well," Bluestreak began slowly, "He was an enforcer before his job here. And he loves logic puzzles. And he's a master of Circuit Su and Metallikato. That's all I can tell you in general. It would take too long to get into personal details, and that's something Jazz needs to work out in his own time."

"Huh," the seeker considered this new information carefully. "Does he work a lot? He seems very efficient at what he does."

"He's a workaholic." This came from Sunstreaker, the first time Starscream had ever heard him speak. His voice was a little deeper than his twin's and quiet, slow and careful. He was a very deliberate sort of mech.

"Okay then…Well, I think I'll observe them for a little while, see if I can pick out patterns. Maybe then I can get a better idea of what needs to happen to get things moving with them."


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Hey, sorry for the horrendous wait. I wouldn't be surprised if most of you have abandoned all hope of this story ever updating! I _just_ finished this chapter, and I don't have any more written up atm, but it's break so if I can tear myself away from tumblr then maybe I'll get more writing done.

I'd like to say THANK YOU to everyone who faved, alerted, and reviewed in the interim between chapters here You guys kept reminding me that hey, yeah, I DO have a story to finish. And also sorry for the wait I do feel really bad about that, since I know I hate it when I'm following a wonderful story (not saying mine is) and then all of a sudden there are no more updates. So I know what that feels like. Anywho, if ya'll actually read this, drop me a review or something! Please? Even if it's to rant about me not updating. Or just one word. I'm not picky…

The Start of A Beautiful Relationship

Chapter Four

The young mechs parted ways after their break and headed to their respective classrooms. Optimus was off to his next class, Languages, taught by Mirage. Mirage had a long-standing dislike of the Organic Science and Chemistry teacher, Hound, and with all the recent gossip during their break he had to wonder if there was possible chemistry there as well. A soft chuckle escaped at his mental pun, and it was only when a friendly, "What's so funny?" came from behind him that he realized Starscream had been trailing after him the whole way.

"Oh, nothing," Optimus shrugged, wondering how he had failed to notice his friend right behind him. He was awfully quiet, but then again the halls were pretty noisy. "What class do you have next, then?"

"I've got…" Starscream peered at his datapad. "Organic Science and Chem with Hound. Should be interesting, I'm pretty excited for that class."

"Neat. I'd just recommend not mentioning Mirage to Hound and vice-versa. They don't get along."

Starscream glanced sideways at him, having caught up to the taller mech's strides. "Like a Prowl and Jazz kind of don't-get-along, or just a 'they really hate each other' kind of way?"

"More the latter, I think," Optimus responded as they neared Starscream's classroom. It was directly across the hall from Optimus' class. He glanced in the door's window briefly before reaching for the handle to open it and hurriedly backpedaled. "Shh, no, wait!" At the seeker's confused expression he gestured towards the closed door. "It looks like they're having an argument, best not to interrupt."

Starscream hummed noncommittally and peeked through the window. A slim blue and white mech was indeed arguing with a boxier green mech, and as he moved to push his audio against the doorframe Starscream began to make out what they were saying.

A slightly rough voice filtered through, sounding somewhat confused and apologetic.

"…Don't know what you want me to say, Mirage. Sorry for being me? I really have no idea what your issue is with me. Is it personal, is it work-related, what? If you don't tell me what I have apparently done to wrong you, I can't apologize for it!"

"Well, unless you have the time to apologize for..for…"

"For _what_?"

"For just…Agh, forget it! I have a class to prepare for."

Starscream jumped back from the door quickly as Mirage practically stormed out of the classroom and shoved his way to the other side of the hall. After shuttering his optics in surprise, the seeker shrugged and gave a reluctant Optimus a small wave as he headed into chemistry.

The rest of the day was entirely uneventful. The shuttle, Skyfire, was in his gym class, but he'd only caught the name as their drill-sergeant of a teacher barked it out. They'd had no time to converse. Strictly speaking, cybertronians didn't need to exercise, but teachers had found that students tended to do better if they had a physical exertion period during the day, so gym was mandatory. For those students that were more advanced, the dean led a self-defense class that met after school every five orns.

Starscream had been standing in front of the sign-up datapad hanging on the info board for the last ten klicks, debating whether or not he should try out. The hallways were relatively empty now, just a few pairs or small groups of students left talking about their vacations or heading to after school extra-curricular activities.

"You should try out for that."

Starscream jolted at the quiet voice and swung around to find the principal, Prowl, standing behind him.

"I, uh, what?" He stammered out, still put off by his shock.

"I said, 'You should try out for that.' If my observations prove accurate, you could become quite proficient in the art of self-defense." One brow was raised at him as though the former enforcer was revising his calculations concerning intelligence. At least, that was the impression Starscream received.

"Oh, right, well, I was just…yeah. I uh, I think I will sign up for it, thanks," he shot the Praxian a smile before turning and quickly adding his name to the list. He didn't hear anything, but when he turned around again, Prowl was halfway down the hall. An idea struck him—hadn't Bluestreak mentioned Prowl's mastery of Metallikato and Circuit Su?

"Prowl!"

Said mech turned as the young seeker jogged up to him so as not to be shouting down the hallway.

"Um, will you be there?" That was the best way to broach the subject and possibly achieve his goal, Starscream had decided.

"I see no need to attend. Jazz is…well-equipped to teach all levels of self-defense," Prowl stated, "Why?"

"Well, it's just that I heard…through the circuitry, you know, that you're a master of Metallikato and Circuit Su. So I thought maybe it would be cool to have you there to, I don't know, teach us some of that too?" He set his best turbo-puppy face to work.

A miniscule flicker of surprise crossed Prowl's slim features. According to his calculations, 99.12% of the student body despised him. Starscream apparently fell into the 0.88% that didn't.

"Jazz is also a master of both disciplines, but as per school rules is restricted to teaching simple self-defense, as I would be in the same situation. Is that all?" The turbo-puppy optics turned into kicked turbo-puppy optics, and Prowl grimaced mentally. He supposed if he had a weakness, it was not being able to handle others disappointment with him.

"I…okay. See you. Or not, I guess." Wings slumping, Starscream turned to walk away when he heard a heavy sigh.

"_Fine_. I suppose I could arrange to give a demonstration of both fighting styles with Jazz at the introductory session, to encourage students to stay with the program. Is that acceptable?"

"Really?" The seeker's mood took a dramatic upturn at the reluctant offer, a smile growing ever-wider on his faceplates. "That would be awesome! Thanks Prowl, you're the best!" The black and white suddenly had an armful of ecstatic, tri-colored seeker, and just as suddenly was watching Starscream leave, a wave and cheery, "See you tomorrow!" thrown over his shoulder.

Prowl sighed and slumped against the cool, painted lockers, dragging a hand over his faceplates as he slowly sank to the floor. _What am I getting myself into?_ He'd been dealing with Jazz's forward attempts at flirting for vorns now, pushing aside every compliment and obvious attempt at ogling, no matter how they made him feel. He'd seen Jazz in action in other settings (mostly at staff parties, but he'd managed to find himself in the same bar as the silver mech on occasion) and was well-aware at how smooth the mech could be. Jazz could have any mech or femme swooning over him in a matter of nano-clicks, and his methods in those situations were wildly different than those he applied to Prowl. The former tactical officer was thus forced to assume that Jazz just kept up the effort as a sort of running gag to make fun of him for being so strict and cold.

Sometimes though, they managed to have normal conversations, sitting side by side in the lunch room, bantering about whatever was on their processors that day. Jazz would lean in a little and make some wry comment that would have Prowl's mouth itching to form a smile at the humor. He never did, but he would always respond with an equally dry quip that would bring out Jazz's infectious laugh, lopsided smile cast at him, visor shining a little more brightly because of him. Those days were the best. Unintentionally or not, they usually happened on significant days, like Prowl's creation day, or on the few small holidays celebrated over the course of the vorn. But that was as close as Prowl ever let Jazz, or anybot for that matter, get.

He'd been hurt. That was why he'd been honorably discharged from the Enforcers—usually bots made a career out of it, many stayed until their deactivation—he'd been wounded physically, badly, but it was the internal scars that kept him from passing the psych evaluations needed to continue his work. Prowl had been discharged, deemed a lost cause—a failure to those he'd looked up to. Unlike some bots he'd only wallowed in his misery for a short time before turning himself around and applying for jobs elsewhere. Somehow he'd landed the position of principal at this school, and he'd been here ever since.

The barest ghost of footsteps alerted Prowl to Jazz's presence, and when he glanced up the silver mech was slightly closer than he'd calculated. His tactical center catalogued this information and added it to the calculations concerning Jazz.

"Yes?" Prowl half-spoke and half-sighed the question, optics narrowed as he found himself unable to find the urge to school his features into their usual stoic mask. The silver mech paused, obviously not expecting that response.

"You alrigh' Prowler?" Jazz wavered slightly before settling on extending his hand.

Prowl blinked and met Jazz's hand with his own, fingers curling around slim silver digits instinctively. "Yes," an uncharacteristic smile, soft and slightly lopsided, slipped onto his lips, "I'm just tired, but thanks for asking."

Jazz clucked his glossa in mock reprisal as he gently tugged the Praxian to his pedes. "Ya need ta get more recharge, Prowler. Can't have ya takin' naps in tha hallways now, eh?" His voice managed to stay steady as well as his grip, but Jazz wasn't sure how he managed to get words out at the invisible sparks prompted by the rare contact between them. Thanks to that his spark was beating so loudly in his chest he was sure Prowl could hear it, and his fingers felt like they were dipped in molten slag. In a good way. When their fingers inevitably slid apart, Jazz did his best to commit the feeling to memory, before realizing that Prowl was saying something to him.

"…So would you be okay with that?" Prowl watched Jazz expectantly, hoping to avoid some sort of innuendo-filled comment that would inevitably lead to awkwardness.

"I, uh," Jazz floundered, having no clue what Prowl had just asked him. Not that it really mattered—he'd do anything the Praxian asked, to be honest. "Sure, yeah. No problem."

"Alright," Prowl nodded solemnly and began to turn away.

"Oh! Uh, Prowler—I mean, Prowl, um, would you, er, want to…" Jazz gesticulated in a very general fashion, hoping beyond hope he didn't look and sound like an idiot, and wondering if he could gain a clue as to what he had just agreed to.

"Plan it out? No, I think it will be more…genuine and realistic if we don't. Besides, I haven't gotten to stretch my limbs out like that with a decent partner lately, and it will hopefully be a good evaluation of which skills, if any, need a little polishing. See you tomorrow."

And with a tiny nod over the shoulder, the smallest of smiles playing across his lips, Prowl strolled down the hallway silently, hips gently swaying to the beat of his gait.

Jazz was left staring slack-jawed in the hallway wondering why Primus liked to torture him.


End file.
